A Coyote Runs By

As we turn the corner from the cul de sac where we live to join the side street that runs up the hill to the escarpment above, a coyote goes racing by.

I stop.

Beau strains at the leash.

The coyote doesn’t see us. He keeps running, up the hill, towards the path that meanders through the forest linging the hillside as it makes its way back down towards the river’s edge, leading westward out of the city.

He is there one minute, gone the next, so fast, I wonder if I really did see him. Beaumont’s antics tell me I did.

I turn around and come home. I don’t really want to have an encounter with a coyote late at night. Or anytime of the day for that matter.

We live along the river’s edge in a community that was once the western limit of the city but has long been consumed by urban sprawl and annexation of a town on the other side of the river that once lay beyond the city limits.

The river is nature’s highway. A broad sweeping ribbon of water that flows down out of the mountains, through the city, inexorably drawn by nature’s pull towards Hudson’s Bay far to the east.

Every evening, as we sit on our deck, we watch rafters drifting by and a few brave souls navigating paddle boards.

And wildlife.

Like the coyote who raced by chasing some unseen prey, or perhaps heeding a primitive call to head to the hills, take cover in the forests that edge the water’s northern rim.

There are no houses on the northern edge of the river where the Bow turns a broad sweeping curve as it flows in from the West. High above, along the ridge of the escarpment, houses stand, their windows gleaming in the evening sun. They keep watch over the parkland area that runs along the river’s edge. Trees. Vegetation and a long extinct gravel pit that has been turned back to the land to become a flood water diversion project.

It is beautiful along the river’s edge.

And a refuge to the wild things that used to roam freely.

It’s easy to forget about the wild things when surrounded by urban sprawl and concrete.

It’s easy to forget we are not alone on this land.

A coyote ran by last night.

Fast and fleet of foot, he swept in from the south, headed north and then disappeared from view.

And still, his footprints run through my memory, reminding me, we do not own this land we claim as ours. There were others here before us. Others who once ran free. Who did not need concrete roads and traffic signs to tell them how to get from one place to the next.

Long ago, they followed the rivers and the streams. The seasons and the wild things.

In their footsteps we must tread lightly upon this land upon which we walk.

I completely agree Louise. Here in the far south, we have lots of encounters with deer. During the winter, they actually rest on our front yard and are happy to eat whatever is still available. We are lucky to be able to visually appreciate this type of co-inhabiting. Namaste.

I could give you my “Coyote stick” which Jim made from one of his old hockey sticks. He cut off the blade then in big bold lettering, printed “COYOTE STICK” on both sides. I laughed when he first made it but I used it every day while walking “Winston” as it was a great walking stick. Many times I waved it and shouted while being stalked by one or two Wiley Coyote. I rather doubt that the words printed on it had any effect whatsoever but it made for good conversation whenever I met with other dog walkers! Much Love sister dear, Jackie

I look forward to the Stick Jackie! Alas, Beaumont may think it’s a toy and want to chew on it! 🙂 Though it does make me wonder… can coyotes can read? 🙂 Much love to you too! Looking forward to seeing you and your Coyote Stick! ❤

Love this: “And still, his footprints run through my memory, reminding me, we do not own this land we claim as ours. There were others here before us. Others who once ran free. Who did not need concrete roads and traffic signs to tell them how to get from one place to the next.” Leaving one to wonder the true definition of safety. ❤️

Such a very powerful wondering E! I read in the news the other day about a woman being assault in an are where I used to always walk when we lived on further south in the city, on the other side of the river. I worried then about the bears — but truly… is it man who is the more dangerous? ❤

Living an ART filled life...“Creativity is a God-given ability to take something ordinary and make it into something special. It is an openness to doing old things new ways…The creative spirit is part of our heritage as children of the One who created all things. And nurturing our creativity is part of our responsibility as stewards of God’s good gifts.” - Emilie Barnes, The Spirit of Loveline